


Someone Worth Living For

by Katie74656



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 04:34:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3754735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katie74656/pseuds/Katie74656
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Computer," she yelled, "end program. Initiate site to site transport to my quarters, authorization Torres Omega Phi 9-3." B'Elanna closed her eyes and calmed her breathing as the transporter beam enveloped her. The pain felt good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone Worth Living For

**Author's Note:**

> This is my slightly off cannon, slightly AU version of the events between Extreme Risk and Nothing Human.
> 
> Many thanks to Sareki for the encouragement, proofreading and pointers! 
> 
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager and all its glorious characters are the property of the CBS Corporation/Paramount Pictures. I don't own them, I just write about them.

"We could add tail fins to the hull and have joysticks for the flight controls," thought Tom Paris out loud, walking along the corridors of Deck Nine and inputting ideas for the layout of the new ship he was designing on a PADD. There had been a discussion on aesthetic design between himself and Lieutenant Commander Tuvok during the earlier briefing in the Conference Room. He had yet to convince the Vulcan of the relevance of the design features and was hoping that the Holodeck model would change his mind. His feet strode the familiar path to Lieutenant Torres' quarters, curious to see how her scrounging of the necessary components was coming. Time was short if they were going to beat the Malon to their probe and B'Elanna had left the meeting early, saying she needed to assemble a work detail to pull parts from Voyager's other shuttlecraft. He hadn't seen or heard from her since, which wasn't atypical; he absolutely believed that the Chief Engineer was hands down the busiest member of Voyager's crew. This project was the perfect opportunity for them to work together; the collaboration of pilot and engineer to design the ultimate spacecraft; although, she hadn't seemed to share in his excitement. B'Elanna had been distant of late and Tom was worried it had something to do with her interactions with Steth. Tom had been desperately trying to make it up to her with romantic dinners, Holodeck outings, even offering to teach her how to drive his cherished Camaro. She wouldn't open up to him completely about what had transpired, but Tom figured something had her rattled.

It had been a rough few months for everyone onboard Voyager and it seemed like it had been one crisis after another: getting entangled with the Borg and Species 8472, losing Kes, making contact with home, being forced to participate in hunting simulations with the Hirogen and finally, meeting Arturis and facing near assimilation, again. Even Captain Janeway had been forced to face her own demons as they travelled through the Void. Tom looked up from his PADD and found himself standing in front of Torres' door. As usual, the door was locked. Tom entered the access code he and B'Elanna had programmed as their relationship became more serious and "sleepovers" became more frequent. He was surprised to discover that his code had not unlocked the door. Puzzled, Tom activated the door chime and waited for B'Elanna to authorize his entrance. After several seconds, he pressed the chime again, and again there came no response from the cabin's occupant. Finally after the third failed attempt, Paris tapped his commbadge. 

"Paris to Torres," a pregnant pause filled the air and Tom felt his stomach twist with anxiety. The door eventually slid open and Tom quickly stepped inside, worried that B'Elanna might change her mind. The room was pitch black; the only light came from the glow of the star field passing by in the outside the large windows in her cabin. Tom let his eyes adjust to the darkness and searched for the object of his interests. The apprehension that had started twisting in his stomach while he waited at B'Elanna's door was now escalating to full knots. 

"B'Elanna?" Tom called out to the dark, tentatively taking a step deeper into her quarters. "Shit!"he exclaimed, bumping into the coffee table with his leg. 

"I'm here," the response was barely above a whisper. Tom, hunched over rubbing his shin, turned his head to the right, following the sound of her voice. Now knowing where to look, his eyes found her sitting in a tight ball in the far corner of her couch and the knots tightened further; she seemed so small, so un-B'Elanna, sitting there in the dark. Tom manoeuvred around the living area in the dark and sat next to her on the couch. 

"B'Elanna, are you okay?"

"No," came the one word response.

"What is it?" He reached out to cup her face and she flinched away. Tom's eyes widened in surprise and he reached out again, this time gaining purchase and holding her lowered face up to his in both hands. "Is this about Steth?" He asked, trying to hide the guilt in his voice. She silently shook her head in his hands and tried to pull away. "Then what is it?" Tom could hear the frustration rising in his voice. He had spent so long breaking down her walls and wasn't prepared to start all over again. B'Elanna tried a second time to free herself from his grip, but Tom wasn't backing down. She raised her arms between his hands and pushed outward trying to remove his hands. He released his hold on her face and grabbed for either wrist. B'Elanna continued to struggle and locked eyes with Tom. He saw anger, loneliness and sadness in their brown depths and in the dim light; he noticed the dark circles under her eyes. 

Refusing to let go of her wrists, Tom watched B'Elanna's eyes narrow as she struggled against his grip and then heard the unmistakeable rumble of a growl beginning in her throat. Too quickly to prepare himself, B'Elanna sprang to action, launching herself at Tom. He fell back awkwardly and was in danger of tumbling to the floor before B'Elanna landed on his chest, keeping him on the couch. In the sudden movement, he had released her wrists, and she had quickly taken advantage, grabbing his hands in hers and pinning them over his head. Growling and snarling, she nibbled and sniffed along his hairline and down his jaw. Tom groaned involuntarily in response to B'Elanna's actions and felt his pulse quicken.

"B'Elanna," he began, his voice breathy, "B'Elanna, stop. Shit!" He cursed again as B'Elanna sank her teeth into his cheek. He felt warmth rush to the area and could tell from the feral grin on her face that she had drawn blood. Tom shifted his hips and pushed himself to a seat, having regained the use of his arms. Holding B'Elanna at arms' length, he reached to wipe the blood off his cheek and stared back at her in confusion. "This isn't going to help anything. Talk to me," he pleaded. B'Elanna inhaled sharply and avoided his gaze by diving back to the hollow of his neck and licking at the mark she had made on his cheek.

"I don't want to talk," came her muffled reply, her hands unzipping his uniform jacket and working it down over his shoulders. She growled again running her hands over his toned upper arms and breathing in his scent. Tom's eyes rolled back in his head and he returned her growls as her fingers slid under his grey undershirt and trailed along his abs and up to his chest, tangling themselves in the golden reddish curls. Somewhere, far back in his consciousness, he knew he should stop, force her to face whatever was bothering her. But his lizard brain instincts had taken over, and of their own volition, his hands began wandering along the familiar landscape of her body, clothed only in her grey uniform tank and a pair of cotton panties. 

She tilted her head to the side and he didn't hesitate to indulge himself in the soft flesh she presented. His breath hitched, as she reached to unfasten his pants and she broke their contact so that they could stand and she stripped him to his boxers. Stepping out of his pants and boots, Tom scooped B'Elanna into his arms, cupping her ass as she wrapped her legs around his hips. He started walking towards the bedroom as she refocused her efforts on his jaw. 

"Tommie," she whispered, using the name she reserved only for their most intimate encounters. Tom loved that endearment and the thought of it was usually enough to cause a stirring in his groin, which had put him in a few uncomfortable situations during long, boring shifts on the Bridge. He placed her on the edge of her bed, and paused only to remove each of their grey undershirts. Quickly, before the chill air bothered her warm skin too much, he pressed his weight onto her and felt her erect nipples drag across his bare chest. She thrust her hips up into his, grinding against his erection still trapped in his boxers.

"B'Elanna," Tom moaned as she continued to move against his pelvis and bowed his head to take a nipple in his mouth. B'Elanna responded by arching her back and driving more of her breast into his mouth. He sucked and nipped, catching the pink nub in his teeth and twisting slightly. She cried out, but snarled approvingly as Tom released and moved to the other side. Tom started to move his hand to between her legs to play a little longer, but she shifted away, instead reaching out to wiggle his boxers off his hips, quickly following suit with her own underwear. 

"Fuck me, Tom. Don't be gentle," she pleaded, reaching out for him and the tiny concerned voice deep in his head made itself known. He pulled back momentarily, his eyelids heavy and his lips bruised from her rough kisses. She briefly made eye contact before throwing her head back onto her pillow, spreading her legs wide and reaching between them to grab for Tom and guide him to her centre. Tom held his breath as he slid into her, only exhaling once he had filled her completely. Appeasing the voice, he began to rock his hips, working into her at a gradual pace rather than the rough tempo shed asked for. B'Elanna, realizing his resistance to her request, snarled in frustration, and she bucked her hips, trying to encourage him to increase his intensity. 

"Harder," she commanded, raking her nails down his back. Tom hissed and arched his back with the pain, causing him to drive into her deeper. "Yes," she growled in satisfaction. Tom was no stranger to aggressive love making with B'Elanna and usually enjoyed when their unions became more physical, but something about this was different, not that he could stop now. Tom, fuelled by her encouragement, finally obliged her request, grabbing her by the hair, pulling her head back and sinking his teeth into her exposed collarbone. B'Elanna cried out and Tom swore he saw a smile begin to curl at her mouth. 

B'Elanna raised her legs with her knees near her upper ribs as Tom thrust deeper and harder into her. She could hear his thighs smacking against her legs, see the sweat beading on his forehead and kept a tight hold of his hips to encourage his pace. His efforts were hurting her and she struggled to keep that from showing on her face lest he see them and stop, because that's what she wanted. That's what she needed; the pain, the only thing could she feel anymore. She knew he was close as his breathing became more rapid and his rhythm faltered. With three more excruciating thrusts, he cried out with release and collapsed on top of her, resting his head over the mark he had left near her shoulder. B'Elanna lay perfectly still beneath him, feeling the waves of pain ebbing away and the shadow fall back across her mind. She could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his breath return to normal and his body begin to shudder as the cool air interacted with his sweaty skin and she envied him for his release. 

Coming out of his fog, he raised his head from her chest, and tried to maneuver himself to help bring her to her climax. He knew she hadn't fallen over the brink with him and Tom had always prided himself on being an attentive lover. B'Elanna took advantage of his movement to let him slip out of her and quickly skirted out of bed. Tom sat up, his chest and face still flushed from their activities, and felt the room spin as a moment of light-headedness overtook him. Recovering, he cautiously stood and followed B'Elanna, who had retreated to her ensuite and activated the sonic shower. He blinked quickly as his pupils adjusted to the light in the room and looked at her standing in the shower stall. 

She looked about 7 or 8 kilos thinner; he could see each rib and her cheekbones stood out more on her face. His expression was one of shock as he looked at the bruises scattered around her small frame. B'Elanna noticed him staring and quickly wrapped herself with a towel and walked to her closet to grab a fresh uniform.

"I didn't cause those," he challenged, half questioning what he already knew in his heart to be true. They had been rough, but the location of the bruises didn't make sense and no bruise would appear that quickly. Some had the yellow-green tinge of being several days old.

"No," she replied pulling on fresh underwear and a new tank before reaching for her pants.

"Then what?" he asked, squaring her to him by the shoulders. She wrenched free and brushed her hair from her face with her left hand, waving him off with her right.

"I've been trying a new physical training program on the Holodeck and it's a bit more intense then I was anticipating." She pulled on her boots and walked to her dining table where her black and gold jacket was draped. "It's nothing I can't handle."

"You're lying," Tom challenged, once again dressed in his boxers and shirt. B'Elanna spun on her heel to face him, fury flashing bright in her eyes. She said nothing, but looked down to start the zipper of her uniform. "Where are you going?"

"Engineering," she snapped, her voice like ice. Tom realized he now understood the full meaning of the ancient Earth phrase "deer in the headlights" as he struggled to comprehend the rapid mood shifts of the woman he adored. 

"Now?!" he asked incredulously. "It's the middle of Gamma shift." B'Elanna paused for a moment, and Tom held his breath, hoping that she might open up and talk to him. She looked past him for a moment, gazing at the star field, and Tom watched as a somber expression fall across her face. She met his eyes before crossing her arms over her chest and walking out into the corridor, leaving Tom standing in her quarters, half dressed and filled with questions that had no easy answers. The doors slid shut with a hiss and Tom searched for his jacket to activate his commbadge. 

"Paris to Sickbay."

Yes, Mr. Paris," answered the EMH, his exasperated tone causing Tom to roll his eyes. 

"We need to talk. Something is wrong with B'Elanna."

******************************************************************************

"How many times over the last four years have I wished that this ship was equipped with a counsellor?" Captain Kathryn Janeway asked rhetorically, standing on the upper level of her Ready Room, her back to the three men joining her in her office. "Of course, this was only supposed to be a three week mission. Who needs a counsellor for a three week mission?" Commander Chakotay, Lieutenant Paris and the Doctor looked at each other, waiting for someone to speak. "Gentlemen," Janeway continued, turning to face them and walked to stand behind her desk, "what exactly do you believe is happening with Lieutenant Torres?"

"I don't know, Captain," Tom began, the concern in his voice evident to the others in the room. "B'Elanna's been distant, and after seeing her last night," he trailed off, looking down at his feet. "I don't know." Although he'd been up all night, Tom felt wide awake. After their meeting, the Doctor had insisted that he and Paris involve Janeway and Chakotay. 

"Well," started Commander Chakotay, "something must have happened for you to go to the Doctor with it, and he must believe there is reason for concern if he's bringing it to our attention." Tom squirmed and looked over at the EMH. Self-consciously, his hand went to his cheek, healed but still tender. The dermal regenerator that Tom and B'Elanna kept in her quarters for just such injuries had had no charge when Tom went to use it the night before. Prior to discussing Tom's concerns about B'Elanna, the EMH had healed the pilot's wounds and surmised what had preceded his visit. Not that it was a secret, but Tom really wasn't feeling inclined to share his sex life with his commanding officers at that particular moment. 

"Mr. Paris had stopped by to see Ms. Torres after his shift and noticed abnormalities in her behaviour as well as changes to her physical appearance," the Doctor explained and Paris nodded, silently thanking the Doctor. 

"Such as?" Janeway prodded. 

"She looks gaunt and drawn out," Tom replied, regaining his composure. "She looks like she hasn't eaten or slept properly in weeks. And there are bruises; some of them have probably been there for a while, and in places that don't make sense for her day to day activities.” Janeway considered this for a moment and Chakotay furrowed his brow, staring out the large bay windows of the captain's Ready Room. 

"Did she give you any explanation?" the captain asked concerned. 

"We, uh, didn't talk much," Paris answered sheepishly, rubbing at his check again. "She did mention a new physical fitness program on the Holodeck, but I told her that I didn't believe her."

"Captain, this has a lot of markers of depression: lack of appetite, lack of interest in usually pleasurable activities, unexplained injuries,” interrupted the EMH. “If we could get her to open up about what triggered the illness, it would go light years to helping my plan a treatment program. But that seems to be easier said than done.”

"The Maquis," Chakotay said in a soft and pained voice. 

"Commander?" Janeway asked as she turned to her first officer. 

"The massacre at Tevlik's Moon. I received a letter about six months ago through the Hirogen communications hub from a friend who survived by being in a Federation prison." He faltered for a moment and closed his eyes to steady himself before continuing. "I personally informed each of the former Maquis on the ship at the time. B'Elanna took it as I expected; she punched a hole through a console in Engineering."

"I remember her mentioning that," Paris recalled. "I was worried about how she was dealing with the news, but then the Hirogen took over, and Steth, "he looked at Janeway knowing she understood.” Then there was the whole mess with the Demon planet and the Dauntless." He shook his head and clenched his fists. "I should have noticed something. How did I let this slip past me?"

"Don't blame yourself. She fooled as all, Tom," Chakotay replied 

"No offence, Commander, but I’m,” he faltered for words, “I'm the one who is supposed to be there for her." Paris' voice was a mixture of anger and guilt and was as much berating himself as challenging Chakotay. 

"This kind of talk is getting us nowhere," interrupted Janeway. "Doctor, if this is the case, what are our next steps?"

******************************************************************************

The pain felt good. Torres was breathing heavily, her back pushed up against the wall of a cave. Simulated or not, it was cold and the sharp outcroppings scraped along her back. A few modifications to the Day of Honor program Tom had designed for her had been effective in serving her needs. Cradling her left arm in her right hand, she focused on the pain radiating between her left wrist and elbow as she slowly moved her fingers. 'Just a sprain' she thought and bent down to pick up the bat'leth on the ground at her feet. She cursed as she forced her injured arm to grip the weapon and took a few tentative swings. Breathing again through the pain, she felt relieved to feel something, anything. The guilt from her earlier encounter with Tom threatened to consume her, and she swung the bat'leth harder. She knew that he was worried about her, saw the pain in his eyes and recognized his own feelings of guilt and helplessness. 'He'll figure it out, that it wasn't about Steth's violation. That it's all inside me and then what? He'll leave, just like everyone else. Just like Daddy, just like Seska. Like the Maquis.' 

Hot tears welled in her eyes; temporarily blinding her and she quickly wiped them away, hearing approaching footfalls. Crouching in the shadows, she heard the echoes of the Klingon’s grunts as he stomped towards her position. Holding the bat'leth in front of her, tips raised to strike, she waited for her attacker to come into view and leapt out of the darkness, slicing him across the chest. His armour was thick, but the bat'leth cut threw it and the holographic warrior stumbled backwards, clutching at the gaping wound in his chest. B'Elanna capitalized and drew the bat'leth to his throat, severing the carotid artery. The hologram sputtered and collapsed, falling to a heap on the cavern floor. 

She took a moment to steady her breath, and only heard the next attacker in time to turn and duck as he charged her with a dagger. She moved to block his next assault, but his blade found her already injured left arm, and she screamed, dropping her bat'leth and falling to her knees. Sensing her distress, the Klingon lunged once more, but she rolled to her side. Reaching to the body of the attacker she had slain, she found his disruptor and fired point blank into the face of her would be assassin. As the corpse fell, B'Elanna crawled quickly back into a position of cover and vomited. Her left arm was still bleeding and was hanging at an awkward angle, obviously broken from the force of the strike. She howled, half in pain and half in anger, knowing there was no way she could manage the first aid that would be required for her injuries. Chastising herself for being careless, she heard more footsteps, this time running towards her. 

"Computer," she yelled, "end program. Initiate site to site transport to my quarters, authorization Torres Omega Phi 9-3." B'Elanna closed her eyes and calmed her breathing as the transporter beam enveloped her. The pain felt good.

******************************************************************************

Tom quickly walked through the corridors of Deck Nine. B'Elanna's message had been flashing on his computer terminal, waiting for him as he came off shift. The words were bright yellow against the plain black background: 'Please come. Bring regenerator.' Usually, this sort of request would have piqued his sexual interest; however, after recent events, Tom was only concerned about B'Elanna's physical and mental wellbeing. He got to her quarters in record time. As suspected, the door was locked, but this time, when he punched in his code, the door opened. Like before, the room was dark and B'Elanna could not be seen. 

"Computer, lights. Twenty percent illumination," he looked around, but she wasn't in the living area. Tom sighed and hung his head, bringing his hand to his forehead. Looking at the floor, he saw blood droplets leading towards the ensuite and his heart jumped to his throat. He quickly negotiated the furniture, stumbling over B'Elanna's boots and a blood soaked shirt. Falling to the floor, Tom crawled the remaining distance into the dark bathroom and ordered the computer to raise the lights to maximum. 

B'Elanna was curled into a ball on the floor clutching her left arm, bloodied towels on the floor next to her. She didn't move as the lights came up, but Tom could see her shivering. He closed the distance between them, grabbing her face in his hands. She slowly opened her eyes and smiled faintly. 

"Did you bring it?" she asked, her breathing laboured. 

"Bring what?" Tom asked, removing his uniform jacket and wrapping it around her to stop her shivering. He ran his hands through his sandy blonde hair before moving them to her injured arm. 

"The regenerator," B'Elanna answered, trying to bring herself to a sitting position. As she moved, her face contorted with pain and her breathing slowed to work through it. Her face was ashen and clammy from the blood loss. 

"Regenerator?" Tom repeated incredulously. "Hell, B'Elanna, we need to get you to Sickbay." B'Elanna's eyes flashed wide. 

"No," she remarked, sitting a bit straighter to make her point, before grimacing in pain and slumping back against the wall. "I'll be fine, just help me with my arm," Tom shook his head in disbelief and reached for the commbadge on his jacket still draped across B'Elanna's chest. With her good arm, she reached out her hand and grabbed for his. Pained brown eyes met terrified blue orbs, glistening with tears. "Please, Tom. I can't go to Sickbay. Please," she pleaded in a voice he hadn't heard since the Vidiian caves. 

"Okay, okay," Tom sighed and kissed her forehead ridges. "Let me get a Medkit."

"There's one in the bottom drawer," she pointed to her dresser and Tom quickly grabbed it. Opening the case, he activated the tricorder and scanned B'Elanna head to toe.

"You have a mild concussion, two cracked ribs, the meniscus is torn in your right knee, and of course, your arm is a mess. Where's your regenerator?" B'Elanna nodded her head across the room.

"I threw it over there when the charge died," she smiled at Tom weakly, and although she was in a rough state, Tom felt relief spread over him at the sight of her smile. He reached for her regenerator and loaded it with the spare charge from the Medkit. She sat quietly while he tended to her knee, her ribs, her head and finally her arm. 

"You've lost a lot of blood. If it wasn't for your Klingon redundancies, you'd need a transfusion," he said, helping her stand. She stumbled into his arms, and he picked her up. She didn't struggle, and instead curled into his chest and let him carry her to her bed. "I'm going to stay here tonight with you," she nodded groggily, regretfully moving her head from his chest to her pillow. He pulled the comforter up to her chin and watched as her eyes fluttered closed. 

"Thank you, Tom," she said quietly before drifting off to sleep. Tom watched her for a few moments before returning to the ensuite to clean up the mess. Throwing the stained clothes and towels in the recycler, he tried half-heartedly to get the blood stains out of the grey carpet, giving up after a few scrubs. He looked over to the sleeping area. B'Elanna was curled into the centre of the bed where he had laid her down. Her breathing was shallow and even, her face relaxed. Tom quietly stripped to his boxers and softly got into bed facing her. He brushed his hand softly across her ridges and hair and in her sleep, B'Elanna reached her head up to meet his hand. Tom lay awake for a long time watching her, trying not to think of what might have happened and resolved himself to get answers from her in the morning. 

******************************************************************************

B'Elanna woke up with a dull throb in her head and an ache in her knee and arm. She sighed and closed her eyes again, surrendering to the dark warmth of her bed. She reached out and touched the bed where Tom usually slept, finding it empty. Disappointed, she opened her eyes, relishing the ache in her arm and sat up. Tom stood in the corner of the living area near the replicator, silently nursing a cup of coffee. He had woken early, showered and dressed in his off-duty clothes. After checking the duty roster, he knew that he wasn't due on the Bridge until Gamma shift and B'Elanna was off for the day. He watched her start to stir in her sleep and finally wake up. 

"You're still here," B'Elanna croaked, a soft smile on her lips. 

"Yeah," Tom answered, moving to sit next to her on the edge of the bed, "I'm still here." He returned her smile, but B'Elanna saw the resolve in his bright blue eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," she admitted. "My arm and knee are a bit stiff, and I've got one hell of a headache, but I'll survive." She tried to sound casual when she answered him, but it sounded forced even to her. 

"Let's talk about last night," Tom started. B'Elanna straightened against her headboard and weaved her arms across her chest. A fresh and delicious wave of pain shot up her arm and she stared into Tom's eyes but said nothing. He looked down and inhaled deeply, preparing himself for the conversion he knew had to happen. 

"What about it?" she asked, raising her chin in defiance. 

"What about it?!" Tom repeated. "I don't know, B'Elanna. Pretty exciting evening, don't you think? Isn't every night I get called to your quarters because you're lying on the floor bleeding to death." 

"I wasn't bleeding to death," B'Elanna rolled her eyes, crossing her arms tighter over her chest. Tom stood suddenly, succumbing to the anger, fear and guilt he felt. 

"You weren't? My mistake. Wait here while I get the towels I used to clean up the floor after you passed out last night. Or were the blood stains on the carpet your attempt at Klingon decor?"

"I was training on the Holodeck. It got out of hand. That's all."

"Bullshit," Tom snapped. 

"Excuse me?" B'Elanna ignored the pain in her knee and the throbbing in her head and got out of bed, standing to face her accuser. 

"You heard me," Tom snapped. "This isn't about some Holodeck training program. That excuse may work on everyone else, but I know you better than that. Or at least, I thought I did." He looked away and B'Elanna saw sadness stretch across his face. "For weeks now I thought you were keeping your distance because of what Steth did when he was pretending to be me. I have been racked with guilt and have been trying to make it up to you. Hell, it wasn't even me and I hate myself for it." B'Elanna said nothing but walked over to the living area and sat in the corner of her couch. "And because of that, I missed what this is really about."

"And what is it really about?" B'Elanna sneered, looking at Tom. 

"Survivor guilt," he stated flatly, “for the Maquis back home." B'Elanna's eyes widened and she could feel the hair on the back of her neck standing up. 

"What the hell do you know about it?" she yelled back at him. "A few shifts a week in Sickbay and you're the new ship's counsellor?" 

"You're not the only one who has lost friends," Tom interrupted. B'Elanna laughed, but there was no humour in the sound. 

"You were in the Maquis for all of five minutes," she countered, turning away from him. 

"True, but that's not what I was talking about," he answered, his voice soft. He walked to her and knelt on the floor in front of where she sat on the couch. He reached for her hands, and was relieved when she allowed him to take hers in his. "After the accident, during all the lies and the Court Martial, I couldn't sleep; I could hear them. If I did sleep, they were in my dreams, my three closest friends in the world. The people I killed. They haunted me until I felt I couldn't take anymore and I found solace in the bottom of a bottle. It felt good at the time but solved nothing. It took getting thrown into a Federation Penal Colony and the court appointed counselling for me to face my grief and work through it." His eyes glistened with tears that would not fall and B'Elanna felt her anger start to dissolve. They had never really discussed this part of his past. They had shared most aspects of their lives before being stranded in the Delta Quadrant, but there were elements that they hadn't discussed. 

"I forgot about that," B'Elanna whispered.

"I know," Tom answered, steeling himself for what he still needed to say. "I'm not saying that my method of coping was healthy, and on some levels, maybe I was trying to punish myself to atone for the pain I had caused my family and the families of my friends. It took me a long time to realize that I had something to live for." She met his eyes, and Tom could see the pain and anguish. "Please, stop shutting me out and let me help you deal with this. I've been where you are." B'Elanna collapsed into his arms. She didn't cry, but she held him as tight as she could. 

"Do you remember the way out?" she asked into his shoulder. 

"The Doctor has some ideas and I..." Tom began but was startled as B'Elanna pushed away. 

"The Doctor?" she yelled, her eyes filled with rage. Tom felt his heart sink. "You told the Doctor about this?" 

"I went to him after the other night. He doesn't know about last night." B'Elanna's eyes narrowed and she clenched her hands into fists. 

"You had no right to..."

"To what? To ask for help because you're too scared to ask yourself?" Tom gave way to his anger, standing up and walking towards the door. B'Elanna stood to follow him. 

"I'm not scared," she spat back, grabbing his arm to turn him around to face her. "I am handling this."

"No you're not, you're not handling anything, you're running from it. What was the other night? We've been rough before, but that was different. It's like you wanted me to hurt you," Tom's eyes widened with his realization. "Is that it? Is that what you're trying to do?" B'Elanna glowered at him but said nothing to deny his accusation. Tom shook his arm free of her grasp. "Well, I'm not going to help you do that anymore," he shook his head. "I shouldn't have covered for you last night. I should've dragged you to Sickbay."

"I'd like to have seen you try," she snarled, and Tom laughed. 

"The state you were in, you wouldn't have been able to put up a fight." 

"You think you know best, Tom? You think you have all the answers? You're even more of an arrogant, egocentric p'tak then I thought."

"No, B'Elanna," he matched her tone, "I don't know what's best, and I don't have all the answers. I do know that you don't own the market on guilt and loss and that I'm not going to stand here and watch you kill yourself."

"Fuck you, Paris."

"Right," Tom replied and stormed out of her quarters, knowing what he had to do next. She would hate him, maybe forever, but at least she'd be alive. 

******************************************************************************

B'Elanna stood off to the side and only faintly heard Tom and Tuvok arguing about the dynametric tail fins. She knew Tom would want the new shuttle to be a hot rod, and that he was losing the argument to the Vulcan. She watched as the computer added fins to the holographic model and then removed them. The fight with Tom had left a wound deeper than anything she had suffered on the Holodeck. This was pain that she didn't want and couldn't heal with a regenerator and a hypospray. This pain was from hurting the man she loved and she had no idea how to start fixing the damage she'd caused. A troubling premise for a brilliant engineer to find herself in. She tried a few times to get Tom to make eye contact, but he was cool and distant, masking it well with his enthusiasm for the new shuttle. 'I've got to get out of here,' she thought and quickly tried to come up with a reason to leave that wouldn't draw suspicion. Seven of Nine was babbling about microfractures and issues the structural integrity field would have with the gas giant. 'Perfect, I'll go run a few simulations of my own.' B'Elanna announced her plans, and avoiding Tom's gaze, made a hasty exit. 

******************************************************************************

Tom sat in the Mess Hall looking out at the gas giant, angrily spinning below. He knew he should be resting, preparing for the morning's flight to retrieve the probe, but sleep would not come tonight. Chakotay had found B'Elanna unconscious running a simulation of the shuttle flight. Tom had rushed to Sickbay, helping the Doctor tend to her wounds, but hadn't stayed to see her come to. 'She wasn't going to want to see me anyway,' thought Tom, thinking of their fight and how withdrawn she had been in the Holodeck. He didn't notice Chakotay approach his table until the first officer turned a chair backwards and sat down.

"You alright?" Chakotay asked the younger man. Tom shook his head without shifting his gaze from the window.

"Is she awake?"

"Yes," Chakotay answered. "Captain Janeway is with her now."

"She's never going to talk to me again," Tom turned to face Chakotay, a small smile on his face. "You're on that list too, you know." Chakotay nodded and returned the smile. 

"Not the first time, probably won't be the last." Tom considered that for a moment. 

"What was the first time?" Chakotay hesitated, but Tom pressed. "Bringing me onboard the Val Jean?"

"No," Chakotay laughed, "but it was definitely one of the times," he furrowed his brow, which made his tattoo contort. "Tuvok and I reviewed the Holodeck logs. B'Elanna has been spending a lot of time there the last few months. We found restricted files, but we don't know the content. Do you have any idea of what she was running?" Tom shook his head. 

"Not a clue. Trust me, if I did, I would've reprogrammed them weeks ago. All I know is that they are physical and I'm guessing the shuttle test wasn't the first time she's disengaged the safeties." 

"Agreed. Listen, I have a plan and it's not exactly conventional psychology, but it might get B'Elanna to open up," Chakotay began and continued to explain his idea to Paris. Tom ran his hands through his blonde hair and exhaled loudly. 

"Well, if you're not on her shit list now, you will be after this. How can I help?" Tom asked, siding from his chair. 

"Get some sleep," Chakotay said, standing as well and righting the chair, "focus on that flight tomorrow, and be there for her when you get back." He clapped the pilot on the shoulder twice and headed out of the Mess Hall to Sickbay. Tom took once last glance at the gas giant and, following the first officer's advice, headed to his quarters. 

******************************************************************************

He'd been there on the newly christened Delta Flyer when she had run onboard and relieved Ensign Vorik. She'd smiled at him and he'd been sincere when he had said he was glad she was there. And glad he was; her ingenuity had saved them all when a microfracture turned into a full breach. B'Elanna had been quick to leave the shuttle once they returned to Voyager and with the Holodecks temporarily off limits to her, she engrossed herself in her work in Engineering. While she wasn't really communicative with anyone, Chakotay actually seemed to be taking the brunt of the silent treatment, and it didn't go unnoticed at senior staff briefings that she sat herself at the end of the conference table. Tom tried not to seem too eager when B’Elanna started meeting him in the Mess Hall for dinner after her shifts. She had even gone so far as to invite him back to her quarters a few times; they would politely share conversations about the latest issues in Engineering and Tom’s Captain Proton holonovel, but never progressed past dessert. 

B’Elanna mostly kept to herself and Tom knew better than to push or to hover, instead giving her the space she needed to heal without feeling coddled. He could hear his mother's voice in his head reminding him that if it was meant to be, they would find their way back to each other. He had been disappointed when she hadn’t come to see him off before his away mission with Samantha Wildman and Tuvok, and as he sat at the console recording his goodbye message to her, he had tried not to think what his death would do to her recovery. Even though she maintained her distance after the miraculous nick-of-time rescue, he knew through Harry and Chakotay that she had been instrumental to the search and rescue efforts. He decided to retrieve the recording he'd made and left it for her in her personal logs so at least she would know how he felt, whether he ever actually got the chance to tell her in person or not. 

If there was one thing five years in the Delta Quadrant had taught Tom was that anything could happen, usually without warning. It was a quiet afternoon at the helm, and Tom had spent his shift pondering how to get his hands on the picture of B'Elanna from the Doctor's presentation when the EMH's voice rung out through the comm system requesting his assistance in Sickbay. Dismissed by Chakotay, Tom headed to the Turbolift and made his way to Deck Five, confused as he knew Captain Janeway and B'Elanna were both already there with the cytoplasmic life-form they had discovered. When he walked in, he saw the Doctor and Janeway bustling around the surgical bay. Grabbing a tricorder from the nearby instrument tray, he moved to join the others but stopped short when he got to the foot of the bed. There lay B'Elanna, the alien wrapped around her torso and from what Tom could see, its head buried in the left side of her neck. 

"Mr. Paris," the Doctor called, to no avail. "Lieutenant!" Tom snapped out of his fog and met the Doctor's concerned gaze with one of his own. “I need your help if we are going to save Lieutenant Torres.” Tom nodded, his body on autopilot as he assisted the EMH with what he could to stabilize B'Elanna's condition. When conventional medicine had run its course, and the Doctor had barricaded himself in his office searching for a solution, Tom grabbed a stool and sat next to her bed, holding her hand. A few times she woke and instinctively struggled, causing the alien to strengthen his parasitic hold on her. Neelix had stopped by with food for Tom and the Doctor had encouraged him to return to his quarters for rest, but he had refused. Nothing short of a warp core breach would force him from her side. Tom had fallen asleep, his head resting on her right shoulder, his hands still tightly clasping hers when he felt her stir and abruptly woke up. This time, she didn't struggle and spoke in a quiet, laboured voice.

"What happened?" she queried softly. He stood, reaching for a nearby tricorder to scan for her updated vital signs.

"You were attacked. Somehow this thing got through the forcefield. We don't know how to get it off you, but the Doctor is working on it. He's been on the Holodeck for hours with a new consultant program he's developed.” 

"I can't feel my legs," B'Elanna whispered, and Tom furrowed his brow, running his left hand over her forehead ridges.

"I know. We had to sedate you; the Doctor thought it might slow down the alien's progression through your nervous system." B'Elanna closed her eyes for a few moments, gathering strength. 

"Tom, I watched your message, the one from the Flyer."

"Shhh," he said, again, stroking her ridges and hair. 

"No, I need to say this, and from the look in your eyes, there may not be another chance." Tom clenched his jaw, but let her continue. "I never wanted to kill myself; I didn't even really want to hurt myself.” She stopped for a moment, collecting her thoughts and remembering her explanation to Chakotay. “I wanted to feel something, and pain was the only thing getting through. It was the only way I could convince myself that I was still alive." Her speech was mumbled, but her message was clear. "Tom, I never meant to hurt you. You were right, I was too afraid to ask for help; too afraid to let someone else in. Everyone I've ever loved has in one way or another left me and I was terrified that you were next." The tears were flowing freely down his cheeks, but he didn't dare release her hands to wipe them away. 

"And then, I almost lost you on that damned shuttle mission. I would have beamed down to that planet and dug through the rock with my bare hands if I thought it would have gotten me to you faster,” they both shared soft smiles at the thought. B’Elanna paused again, struggling to articulate her feelings into words, her breath becoming more difficult with the weight of the alien wrapped around her body. “Suddenly I knew what you meant, about having someone to live for. Tom,” she inhaled deeply, “I love you, and I don't want to die," her voice cracked. Tom leaned down to kiss her lips and with all the strength she could muster, she met the force of his kiss with a deep longing. 

"I love you,” his voice cracking as he replied. “We're going to find a way to get this off you. I promise. I'm not going to let you die." She smiled weakly and her face looked at peace for the first time in months. Tom leaned in to kiss her once more and she whispered his name before slipping back into unconsciousness. Only then did Tom lose the slippery hold he had had on his emotions, shuddering and sobbing while months of torment and anguish spilled out at B'Elanna's bedside.

******************************************************************************

Keeping his promise had been harder than Tom anticipated when the Doctor had shown up in Sickbay with the infamous Cardassian doctor, Crell Moset. B'Elanna had initially refused treatment, but had been overridden by Captain Janeway. Tom had understood B'Elanna's resistance to accept treatment from Moset, but was relieved when the captain had stepped in. The damage had been extensive, requiring B'Elanna to remain in Sickbay for a couple weeks following the treatment and Tom had been by her side every spare waking moment he had. When the Doctor finally gave her a clean bill of health and released her from Sickbay, B'Elanna wasted no time organizing a romantic evening for the two in her quarters. 

Tom arrived not sure what to expect. It had been before the Delta Flyer's maiden voyage since they'd been together intimately and Tom knew that B'Elanna and the captain had had a not so cordial ethics discussion earlier that day after B'Elanna had returned to her quarters. With butterflies in his stomach, Tom entered his access code to her quarters and smiled as the doors whooshed open and he walked in. The lights were dim, accented by candle light around the cabin and soft music from Earth's early 21st century played in the background. The table was set for two, with a bowl of salad and a bottle of red wine already opened to breathe. B'Elanna was sitting on her couch wearing her maroon leggings and tunic and stood to meet Tom as he entered the room. 

He couldn't remember who made the first move, but the space between them rapidly closed and they held each other firmly, their lips locked in a passionate kiss. B'Elanna held on to the collar of Tom's blue silk shirt with either hand as Tom cupped her face in his. She melted into his body and reached up from his shirt to run her hands through his hair. Without breaking their kiss, Tom picked up B'Elanna and carried her to the couch. He sat with her straddling him and ran his hands down her back and around to her breasts. She groaned, arching her back as his hands continued to explore, pulling her face close to his once more. 

"I missed you," Tom whispered, staring desperately into her brown eyes. 

"I missed you too," she responded, matching his look, before seeking his lips again. His hands were in her hair and she growled into his mouth. She broke their kiss and began licking and nipping around his jaw line. Tom, anticipating her next move, offered his cheek as she reached up to mark him and he wasted no time marking her jaw in the same spot. 

"Tommie," she growled and he felt the familiar stirring in his groin. Smirking, knowing the effect her nickname had on him, she ground into his hips and began to unbutton his shirt. Tom encouraged B'Elanna's arms over her head and peeled the tunic off her body, admiring the black lace bra covering her breasts. He lowered his head to take her left nipple in his mouth, sucking at it through the lace. She growled again, arching her back and Tom smiled at her response, reaching behind her to unhook her bra. B'Elanna pushed him back against the couch and pressed her breasts into his bare chest, licking at the bite mark on his cheek. As he found her lips, he shrugged his shirt off his arms and wrapped himself around her. They stayed that way for several minutes, holding each other against all that had come before. Tom shifted ever so slowly, loathe to break their contact, laying B'Elanna down on her back on the couch and she lifted her hips to allow him to wriggle her leggings off. 

"This time, we're taking it slow," he drawled, and she purred, causing Tom to almost lose his resolve. He started at her left foot, kissing up her shin, knee, and thigh, lingering at the matching black silk panties before continuing a reverse course down her right leg. She moaned as Tom made one more trip up her left leg and stayed at the top of her thigh. He was drunk with the smell of her and not too gently, tore off the offending fabric that was between him and his prize. Tom closed his mouth over her moist folds, hungrily lapping at the sweet wetness and filling his lungs with her scent. B'Elanna ground her hips towards him, and he took leave of his ministrations to look at her face. Her eyes were closed and her lips slightly opened, soft mewling noises escaping from her throat. He smiled as her expression changed to one of disappointment as he moved up her body. He quietly cooed as he kissed a line from her navel to her breasts, taking each one once more in his mouth. 

He kissed her mouth as he reached under her right hip, lifting her leg up over his shoulder and thrust two fingers deep into her centre causing her to gasp in surprise. His thumb quickly found the sensitive nub and he moved with practiced ease, working her to her peak and then slowing to bring her back before she fell over the edge. He continued with his sinusoidal pattern and instinctively, B'Elanna began to rock her hips beneath him. She murmured to him in broken Klingon, begging him for release, grabbing his face to hers and kissing him hard. He gladly obliged her requests and felt her warmth wash over his fingers as she cried out for him. 

"To bed?" he asked as the last torturous waves of her climax ebbed away. She smirked seductively at him and wrapped her arms around his neck, as he scooped up her bare body and carried her towards her bed. Gently, he lay her down on her side and stepped away, to strip off his own pants and boxers. Tom groaned as his erection was freed from its cloth containment and smiled at B'Elanna as she looked him up and down licking her lips. She reached out her arms to him and he fell into them gladly. She knew he was aching for release, his blue eyes dark with desire, and without hesitation she lifted her left leg over his hip and reached down to guide him into her. Tom stared into her eyes as he eased into her warm, wet channel and B'Elanna arched into him as he started at a steady pace. They moved together, face to face, too terrified to let the other go. She could hear his breath become ragged and his rhythm increase with need and urgency. She laced her left hand through his right and felt him tense before he moaned her name into her shoulder. She was close again herself and shifted her hips slightly so Tom's last few thrusts ground into her perfectly and she cried out his name. 

They lay together in a tangled pile of limbs, breathing heavily, sweat cooling in the cooler air. Involuntarily, B'Elanna shivered, and Tom reached to cover them and sleepily kissed her ridges. The dinner and wine long forgotten, the couple lay together, secure in each other's embrace and safe in the knowledge that the universe would be a little less daunting facing it together. 

"Tom," she looked up into his eyes, lids heavy with exhaustion. 

"Hmmmm?" He grunted softly, closing his eyes.

"You're my someone to live for." Tom opened his eyes and looked into B'Elanna's, smiling. 

"And you're mine." B'Elanna sighed happily, snuggling tighter into his body before blissfully drifting to sleep.


End file.
